


small hands

by weepies



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: M/M, hand holding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-28
Updated: 2017-02-28
Packaged: 2018-09-27 10:27:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10010696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weepies/pseuds/weepies
Summary: “Your hand.” Neil was unclear with his words, so Andrew gave the dark haired boy a sideways look. One eyebrow raised, Andrew was clearly awaiting the next trail of words to spew from Neil’s mouth. “I want to hold it.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> i tried really hard to keep them in character  
> i hope u like it?!!!!!!!!

They were alone when it happened.

Andrew was searching for the cigarette box buried deep within his jacket pocket, his hazel eyes slanted, unamused as he lifelessly stared at his fumbling fingers. Neil sat closely next to the solemn blond, so close their knees were bumping and Neil could just make out the feeling of bare skin on bare skin. The air had gotten colder with the passing months, yet neither Neil nor Andrew had transitioned into wearing longer pants. So there they sat, in their baggy shorts, leg pressed to leg, Andrew’s hand in his pocket, still scavenging, and Neil’s hand settled comfortably in his lap. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” Andrew said. He didn’t so much as glance at Neil, the words leaving his lips in a breathless cluster. Neil didn’t look away. Andrew held the retrieved pack of smokes tightly in his hand. He opened the box and pulled out two cigarettes. Planting the pack back into his pocket, he tucked both cigarettes between his lips and raised his lighter. Andrew lit the ends of the drugs, then handed one off to Neil pointedly. Andrew took a long drag. 

The smell of smoke was acrid in the night air. There wasn’t enough wind to swoop it away, and so it sat amongst the two exy players.

Neil watched carefully as Andrew drew his cigarette away from his lips. Neil eyed the way Andrew’s fingers instinctively claimed the smoke between them, and admired the way Andrew pulled the stick back in for another drag. Andrew exhaled deeply. Neil couldn’t quite look away. 

“What?” Andrew’s voice was raspy. “Are you deaf?” 

Neil’s lips perked slightly, forming an amused half-smile. Abiding to Andrew’s demand, Neil tore his gaze away from Andrew’s tired eyes and disheveled hair, and instead, settled his gaze on the goal keeper’s closest hand. Andrew’s hand resided on his leg. Neil eyed the curve of Andrew’s knuckles. 

Andrew’s left hand was not simply his left hand.

Like the scars leading up from his wrists to arms, each wrinkle on Andrew’s hand had a story. The veins visible through his porcelain skin were like words on paper, each meaningful and with purpose, inevitably leading up to the bigger picture that was Andrew Joseph Minyard. Perhaps being with the foxes for so long gave Neil a new outlook on hope, but it didn’t take a lifetime of happiness to recognize the history that this hand held.

“Your hand.” Neil was unclear with his words, so Andrew gave the dark haired boy a sideways look. One eyebrow raised, Andrew was clearly awaiting the next trail of words to spew from Neil’s mouth. “I want to hold it.” Andrew stuck his cigarette in the corner of his mouth, balancing it between his lips as he turned his head toward Neil. Staring at Neil, Andrew almost looked intrigued, but the second passed and his expression was once again filled with the usual disinterest.

“Yes or no?” Neil asked.

Andrew sucked hard on his cigarette. He exhaled smoke through both his nose and mouth effortlessly. “Yes.”

Neil reached for Andrew’s hand, yet he didn’t hold it right away. The first few moments Neil merely just studied it: the curves, the veins, the scars and the freckles. He closely inspected every bit of skin on Andrew’s left hand.

“It is just a hand,” Andrew said, but it wasn’t just a hand. 

Intertwining their fingers, Neil waited to see how they fit. And as Andrew stubbed out his cigarette and traced his eyes on the tall buildings in the distance, Neil decided their hands fit together quite well, and that their fingers, tangled together and purely enveloped, felt more like home than anything Neil had ever experienced.


End file.
